The conspirators, however, had not yet been beaten. They proposed to the Pope to appoint Aquaviva Archbishop of Capua. Of course, Aquaviva refused, and then it was cunningly suggested that it would be an excellent thing if the General, in the interests of unity and peace, should visit the Spanish provinces. Philip III, who was now on the throne, had been approached, and he wrote to the Pope to that effect. Clement rather favored the proposition, but Henry IV of France, Sigismund of Poland, the Archdukes Ferdinand and Matthias and other German princes protested. Then the Pope took the matter under consideration, but before he reached any conclusion he died, and the plot was thus thwarted.
The one who planned this visit to Spain was the plotter Mendoza. His purpose was simply to humiliate the General by confronting him with the king, the greatest nobles of the realm and the Inquisition, and then to force from him all sorts of permissions which were in direct violation of the methods of Jesuit life. The story, as it appears in Astrain, is simply amazing. Mendoza had actually procured from the Pope, through the magnates of Spain, permission to receive and spend money as he wished, to be free from all superiors, and to go and live wherever he chose. When Aquaviva protested to the Pope that such permissions were subversive of all religious discipline, His Holiness suggested a way out of the difficulty, which took every one by surprise – Mendoza was made Bishop of Cuzco in Peru. This interference of rich and powerful outsiders in the family life of the Society, as well as the shameful way in which some of the members sought the favor of men of great influence in the State may explain how, after the angry fulminations of the congregation against the Spanish plotters, it took several years to get even a few of them out of the Society.
The dispute, known as the "De Auxiliis," which raged with great theological fury for many years, had for its object the reconciliation of Divine grace with human freedom. "The Dominicans maintained that the difficulty was solved by their theory of physical premotion and predetermination, whereas the Jesuits found the explanation of it in the Scientia media whereby God knows in the objective reality of things what a man would do in any circumstances in which he might be placed. The Dominicans declared that this was conceding too much to free will, and that it tended towards Pelagianism, while the Jesuits complained that the Dominicans did not sufficiently safeguard human liberty and hence seemed to lean towards the doctrines of Calvin" (Astrain). It was not until 1588, that Luis de Molina, whose name is chiefly connected with the doctrine of the Scientia media, got into the fight. Domingo Ibánez, the Dominican professor at Salamanca, was his chief antagonist. The debates continued for five years, and by that time there were public disturbances in several Spanish cities. Clement VIII then took the matter in his own hands, and forbade any further discussion till the Holy See had decided one way or the other. The opinions of universities and theologians were asked for, but by 1602 no conclusion had been arrived at, and between that year and 1605, sixty-eight sessions had been held with no result. Thus it went on till 1607, when the Pope decided that both parties might hold their own opinions, but that each should refrain from censuring the other. In 1611, by order of the Pope, the Inquisition issued a decree forbidding the publication of any book concerning efficacious grace until further action by the Holy See. The prohibition remained in force during the greater part of the seventeenth century. The principal theologians who appeared on the Jesuit side of this controversy were Toletus, Bellarmine, Lessius, Molina, Padilla, Valencia, Arubal, Bastida and Salas.
While these constitutional and theological wars were at their height a discussion of quite another kind was going on in the immediate surroundings of the General. It was to determine what amount of prayer and penitential exercises should be the normal practice of the Society. Maggio and Alarcón, two of the assistants, were for long contemplations and great austerities, while Hoffæus and Emmanuel Rodrigues advocated more sobriety in those two matters. Aquaviva decided for a middle course, declaring that the Society was not established especially for prayer and mortification, but, on the other hand, that it could not endure without a moderate use of these two means of Christian perfection. As this was coincident with the Spanish troubles, these five holy men were like the old Roman senators who were speculating on the improvement of the land which was still occupied by the Carthaginian armies. Meantime, another storm was sweeping over the Society in France.
When Henry IV entered Paris in triumph, his former enemies, the Sorbonne and the parliament, hastened to pay him homage; but something had to be done to make the public forget their previous attitude in his regard. The usual device was resorted to of denouncing the Jesuits. A complaint was manufactured against the College of Clermont, about the infringement of someone's property rights, and the rector was haled to court to answer the charge. The orator for the plaintiffs was Antoine Arnauld, the father of the famous Antoine and Angélique, who were to be, later on, conspicuous figures in the Jansenist heresy. Absolutely disregarding the point at issue, Arnauld launched out in a fierce diatribe against the Jesuits in general; "those trumpets of war," he called them, "those torches of sedition; those roaring tempests that are perpetually disturbing the calm heavens of France. They are Spaniards, enemies of the state, the authors of all the excesses of the League, whose Bacchanalian and Catalinian orgies were held in the Jesuit college and church. The Society is the workshop of Satan, and is filled with traitors and scoundrels, assassins of kings and public parricides. Who slew Henry III? The Jesuits. Ah, my King!" he cried, "when I contemplate thy bloody shirt, tears flow from my eyes and choke my utterance." And yet every one knew that it was his own clients, the Sorbonne and the parliament, who were the centre of all "the orgies of the League"; that it was they who had glorified the assassin of Henry III as a hero, and made the anniversary of his murder a public holiday; that it was they who had heaped abuse on Henry IV, and had sworn that he never should ascend the throne of France, even if he were absolved from heresy by the Pope, and had returned to the Faith. The travesty of truth in this discourse is so glaring that Frenchmen often refer to it as "the second original sin of the Arnauld family," the source, namely, of its ineradicable habit of misrepresentation.
A short time after this, Jean Chastel struck Henry IV with a knife and cut him slightly on the lip. Immediately everyone recalled Arnauld's furious denunciation of the Jesuits, and a descent was made on the college. A scrap of paper was conveniently found in the library, incriminating the custodian, but the volumes upon volumes of denunciations which had been uttered in the university and in parliament, and which were piled upon the library shelves, were not discovered. The scrap of paper sufficed. The college was immediately confiscated, the inmates expelled from France, and after Jean Chastel had been torn asunder by four horses, Father Guéret was stretched on the rack and Father Guignard was hanged. This occurred at the end of December, 1594.
Up to this Henry IV had not yet been reconciled to the Church, for the Pope doubted his sincerity and refused to withdraw the excommunication which the king had incurred at the time of his relapse. At last, however, owing to the persistency of Father Possevin and of Cardinal Toletus, he was absolved from his heresy, and could be acknowledged, with a safe conscience by all Catholics, as the legitimate King of France. The action of Toletus in this matter is all the more remarkable from the fact that he was a Spaniard, and in espousing the cause of Henry he was turning his back on his own sovereign, who was using all his power to prevent the reconciliation. This service was publicly recognized by Henry who thanked the Cardinal for his courageous act, and when Toletus died elaborate obsequies were held by the king's orders in the cathedrals of Paris and Rheims. Of course, the appeal of the banished Jesuits was then readily listened to by the king. He restored Clermont to them; gave them other colleges, including the royal establishment of La Flèche, and was forever after their devoted helper and friend. It must have been a great consolation for Father Aquaviva, during the battle he was waging and from which he was to emerge triumphant, to be told of this support of Henry; and also to hear of the welcome the Society had received in loyal Belgium in spite of the persistent animosity of Louvain. Almost every city had been asking for a college.
About this time, the Jesuits lost a devoted friend in the person of St. Charles Borromeo, who died in 1584. It is a calumny to say that he had turned against them and had taken the seminary of Milan from their direction. It was they themselves who had asked to be relieved of the responsibility, for he had so multiplied their colleges in his diocese, that it was impossible to give the seminary the attention it required. It is true that he was grievously offended by one individual Jesuit who injected himself into a controversy that was going on between the governor and the archbishop, and assailed the great prelate in the pulpit of the very church which had been given to the Society by Borromeo; but Aquaviva quickly brought him to the cardinal's feet to ask forgiveness, and then suspended him for two years from preaching. That incident, however, in no way diminished the affection of the saint for the Society. His last Mass was said in the Jesuit novitiate which he had founded, and he died in the arms of his Jesuit confessor, Father Adorno, two days afterwards.
Seven years later, on June 21, 1591, another saint died, the young Aloysius Gonzaga. Borromeo knew him well, and had given him his first Communion. This boy saint was not only an angel of purity, but also a martyr of charity, for he died of a fever he had caught from the victims of a plague whom he was attending during a pestilence that devastated Italy. The venerable Bellarmine was his confessor and spiritual father, and, later, when he was about to expire, he said to those around him: "Bury me at the feet of Aloysius Gonzaga."
There was still another trouble before Aquaviva, for while the disturbances were going on in France and Spain, a storm arose in Venice. The Society had been expelled from the republic; but it is to its credit to have been hated by the government that ruled Venice at that time. The republic had become embroiled with the Holy See, and war was imminent. The Pope put the city under interdict, and as the Jesuits who were established there submitted to the injunction, they were all exiled; their property was confiscated, and they were forbidden ever to return. This treatment was in keeping with the traditions of the government of "a republic," as some one had said, "which in reality was a monarchy tempered by assassination." Hallam (Hist. of Europe during the Middle Ages, iii, 144) insists that "it had all the pomp of a monarchy; and its commerce with the Mohammedans had deadened its sense of religious antipathy." Its action in this instance is ascribed to the influence of the Servite friar, Paolo Sarpi, whom the apostate Bishop de Dominis and Duplessis-Mornay, the chief of the French Huguenots at that time, describe as "another Calvin." He was in league with the Dutch and English to create a schism by defying the Pope, and to convert Venice into a Protestant republic. He is also the author of the virulent and calumnious "History of the Council of Trent."
Henry IV of France interested himself in this quarrel, and finally succeeded in having the papal and Venetian representatives meet to discuss their grievances. After protracted negotiations, the republic finally came to terms, but on one condition, namely that the Jesuits should not be allowed to return. As both the Pope and Henry absolutely refused to admit that clause, a deadlock ensued, until Aquaviva declared himself unwilling to allow any such difficulty to stand in the way of reconciliation: and as a consequence, the Society did not return to Venice until after fifty years of exile. Henry, however, had his revenge on Sarpi. He intercepted a letter written by a minister of Geneva to a Calvinist in Paris which revealed the fact that the Doge and several senators had already made arrangements to introduce the Reformation into Venice; and that Sarpi and his associate, Fulgenzio, had formed a secret society of more than a thousand persons, among whom were three hundred patricians, who were merely awaiting the signal to abandon the Church (Daru, Hist. de la république de Venise). The letter was read in the Senate, and many a guilty face grew pale. That was the end of Sarpi's influence. It was, probably also Henry IV who prevented him from going to England when the friar wrote to Casaubon to provide him a home there in case he had to leave Venice. In view of all that Henry IV had done for the Society, the sixth general congregation voted unanimously and enthusiastically to establish a French assistancy in the Society as an expression of gratitude to the monarch.
In Mexico the storm evoked by Palafox did not, it is true, result in expulsions, confiscations and executions as elsewhere, nevertheless it was deadly in its effects; and a century later it furnished the Jansenists of Europe with an exhaustless supply of calumnies against the Society. Its arraignment by Palafox was particularly efficacious because it expressed the mind of a distinguished functionary of the Church who was held by some to be a saint and whose canonization was insisted on by the politicians and nobility of Spain.
The character of this extraordinary personage has always been a mystery, and perhaps it would have been better or, at least, more comfortable to have left it in its shroud instead of revealing the truth about his life. He tells us himself in his "Vida interior" that his university days were wild; but though the text is explicit enough, it may be a pious exaggeration. In 1628 occurred what he calls his conversion. He made a general confession and determined to embrace an ecclesiastical career. His preparation for it was amazingly brief, and we find him soon occupying the post of grand almoner of the Princess Mary, whom he accompanied to Germany. On his return to Spain, he resumed his occupation as fiscal, and in 1639 was consecrated Bishop of Puebla in Mexico and, in the following year, was sent to America with the most extravagant plenipotentiary powers. Besides being Bishop of Puebla, he was simultaneously administrator of the vacant see of the city of Mexico and visitor of the audiencia of the colony, with the absolute right to depose any civil official whom he judged unsuitable.
He did not wait long to exercise his power, and in 1641, to the consternation of everyone, he flung out of office no less a personage than the viceroy himself who was universally esteemed for his upright and virtuous life. By this extraordinary act, Palafox became practically viceroy and captain general, while retaining his ecclesiastical dignities. In a few months, however, the new viceroy, Salvatierra, arrived. Palafox was soon to clash with him also, by blocking all the official work of the audiencia; holding up despatches, delaying decisions, absenting himself from the city, etc. For five years complaints against him poured into Spain but without effecting any change. Salvatierra even accused him of malversation in office, particularly in its finances and added that his whole occupation seemed to consist in writing the Life of St. Peter. His ecclesiastical government was no less disorderly. To gain the favor of those around him he transformed the Indian missions into parishes and put them in charge of priests who were absolutely ignorant both of the habits and language of the natives. The motive back of this change was that as mere mission posts the Indian settlements paid no tithes.
During all this time he continued to proclaim himself a friend of the Jesuits, but in 1641 when a canon of the cathedral wanted to make over a farm to the College of Vera Cruz, he was forbidden to do so under pain of excommunication unless the property was made subject to tithes. When the canon submitted the case to the audiencia he of course, lost it, because Palafox was the visitor of that tribunal. A further appeal was then made to the council of the Indies, but after two years of litigation the case was dropped without a decision. In the course of this contest, Palafox wrote in his plea that the Jesuits were enormously wealthy, while the cathedral of Puebla was destitute of resources. When Father Calderón refuted these assertions, the bishop was wrought up to fury and laid down as a diocesan rule that, under pain of excommunication, no property transfers could be made to religious orders unless this tithe clause was inserted, and he enjoined that the sick and dying should be admonished of that censure. He followed this up by sending an order to all the Jesuits to deliver up their faculties for inspection within twenty-four hours, under penalty of excommunication. Their reply was that they would have to refer the matter to the provincial. This was, according to Astrain, a grave act of imprudence on the part of the Fathers, and such, later on, was the ruling of the Roman Congregation and of the Pope himself.
Of course, in the rigor of the law the bishop had an absolute right to demand the faculties of all the priests of his diocese, but in the concrete it is hard to blame the action of the Fathers in this instance. They did not refuse, but merely wanted time to lay the case before their superior. Moreover, the action of the bishop was altogether out of the ordinary. Up to that time, his own confessor was a Jesuit, and faculties had been issued by the bishop to several others of the Society; during his incumbency he had employed them in various missions of the diocese, he had invited them to preach in his cathedral; and, indeed, they had been using their faculties to confess and preach ever since 1572. It is true that some of their original privileges had been modified or curtailed, but in these two principal functions no radical change had been made. Might they not then have thought that, in view of what the bishop had already done both in civil and ecclesiastical matters, he was mentally deranged? The average man of the world would have arrived at that conclusion.
At all events, the faculties were not forthcoming within the twenty-four hours, and all the Jesuit priests of Puebla not only found themselves dishonored and disgraced by being held up to the people as excommunicated, but by this act of the bishop doubt was thrown upon the validity of all the absolutions they had given in the administration of the sacrament of Penance. Astrain tells us that Father Legaspi attempted to preach in the Jesuit church, and when forbidden to do so by a messenger from the bishop's palace, refused to obey, but apart from the fact that this would be in absolute contradiction with the traditional instincts and training of any Jesuit, Astrain himself relates in the following chapter that the Roman Congregation which examined the whole miserable quarrel decided that Legaspi's sermon was delivered before and not after the prohibition. Recourse was then had to a privilege accorded to the Spanish colonies of constituting a commission of judges to consider and decide the case. This also was subsequently condemned by the Roman Congregation and by Innocent X, but on the other hand, communication with Rome was difficult in those days, and the course entered upon was taken with the approval of the heads of other religious orders, of the viceroy and of the cabildo or mayor. It is true that efforts should have been made to placate the angry prelate, but the documents show that the most humble supplications had been made to him only to be repulsed with abuse.
It would have been futile to refer the case to the audiencia, for Palafox controlled it absolutely. Moreover, it was urged that the plea presented to the commission did not regard merely the wholesale suspension and excommunication, but other grievances as well. There were twenty-nine in all. The commission brought in a verdict against the bishop, but he refused to recognize the authority and even excommunicated the members of the court who, with what Father General Caraffa described as an "exorbitancia grande," had excommunicated the prelate. Then the whole city was in an uproar and Palafox rode through the throngs of the excited populace conjuring them to keep the peace, but at the same time preventing it by proceeding to the cathedral, and, amid the most lugubrious ceremonies and in full pontificals, excommunicating all his opponents. The Mexican Inquisition now intervened and enjoined silence on all parties. Salvatierra, the viceroy, also helped to quell the disturbance. Nevertheless, on June 6, Palafox issued another proclamation declaring that his enemies had been assembling arms in their houses, and were bent on getting control of the country. He again made a public appearance in the streets of Mexico, but two days afterwards he submitted the whole matter to the viceroy.
Salvatierra then implored him with the greatest respect and kindness to restore tranquillity and peace to the distracted colony, but on June 15, Palafox disappeared from the city; and no one knew whither he had gone. It was officially reported later on, that he had betaken himself first to the hacienda of Juan de Vergus, but after two days had disappeared again. For two months his whereabouts could not be ascertained, but in a letter to the Pope, he described himself as wandering for ten days in the forest and mountains without shelter or food, and exposed to death from serpents and wild beasts. He called himself another Athanasius. Finally he returned to the original hacienda and remained there until November. Before his departure, he had empowered the cabildo to have the diocese administered by three ecclesiastics whom he designated; but one of them was imprisoned by the viceroy, and the two others refused to serve. Whereupon, the cabildo called a meeting at the city hall. Alonzo Salazar de Baraona presided and the Jesuits were ordered to display their faculties, which they did; they were then declared rightful ministers of the sacraments.
During his retirement Palafox had received two letters from Spain, one deposing him from his office of visitor, and another announcing the transfer of Salvatierra to Peru. The first was the reverse of pleasant, but the second was a source of great satisfaction for, if we are to believe Salvatierra, Palafox had aspirations for the viceregal office. Possibly with that in view, he willingly assented to the conditions on which he was to be allowed to re-enter his diocese, namely to regard as binding all that had been done in his absence. It was fully nine months before Salvatierra left Mexico, and during all that time there was peace in Puebla; but hostilities were resumed immediately afterwards. Palafox refused to be bound by his contract with Salvatierra; he declared the acts of the commission to be null and void, reasserted the invalidity of the Jesuit faculties, and put three of his own canons in jail. In September, he received a brief from the Pope which he regarded as a justification of all that had been done. In the main, the document asserted the fundamental right of the bishop to examine the faculties of the priests and condemned the proceedings of the commission. Whereupon twelve of the Fathers submitted their faculties to the bishop. But that did not satisfy him. He insisted on the Jesuits appearing in public in a penitential garb, as at an auto-da-fé, and receiving from him a solemn absolution from their excommunication. He also made it a matter of confession for the faithful to have been absolved by Jesuits or to have listened to their sermons.
From this odious ruling an appeal was taken to the royal council; whereupon Palafox despatched three letters to the Pope. The first was about the parochial rights of the other religious orders; the second complaining of the silver mines, vast haciendas and wealth of the Jesuits, and the third consisting of fifty-eight pages of the most atrocious calumnies ever written by a Catholic, and asking finally that they should be made like other religious orders with choir, cloister, etc. Ten years later, the General of the Discalced Carmelites inquired of Palafox why he wrote these letters. "I did so," he says, "because I was incensed against the Jesuits for not treating me with proper respect, but I am surprised that I have lost their affection and was not aware of it till now." At last, wearied of it all, Philip IV ordered him to return to Spain immediately, but he obeyed in a very leisurely fashion. In Rome, the case dragged on for four more years and finally a verdict was rendered affirming among other things that the Fathers had been properly provided with faculties, and had ceased to preach and hear confessions when ordered to do so. The only censure they received was for having convoked the commission to judge the case in the absence of the bishop. The trouble had lasted for sixteen years, but it created a deep prejudice against the Society a century later.